Harry Potter and the Early Post
by Pebbler
Summary: Harry's letter arrives before the trip to the zoo. Follow me as we learn together what this changes. Harmony, not-everyones-heir/Harry
1. Chapter 1

Getting there was easy. One simply headed to the town of Little Whinging, found the street of Privet Drive, and headed to the second to last house on the right hand side. Once there, one would head inside the house and enter a living room, to the right of which was a staircase, and under this staircase was a cupboard.

Now all of this may sound insignificant to one looking in from the outside. But, to the boy, in the cupboard, under the staircase, to the right of the living room, inside the house that sat second to last on the right hand side of the street called Privet Drive, in the town of Little Whinging, it was his whole world.

Harry Potter, of Number 4, Privet Drive, slept peacefully enough, given his situation. That is, of course, until a sharp tapping came noisily into existence on the outside of his cupboard door.

"Wake up boy!" came the shrill voice of his aunt, Petunia. "Breakfast needs to be made before Vernon and Dudley wake up," she added with three additional raps on the cupboard.

Harry sat up sleepily, taking no notice of the spider that, having taken up residence on his chest, was suddenly sent tumbling down to the sheets below.

"Are you up yet?" she shrilled in a rather loud whisper, sounding much more like a deflating bicycle horn than a woman.

Harry yawned, "Nearly up Aunt Petunia," slipped from his mouth as he stretched.

A furious sigh was heard, "Well hop to it boy! We've only got an hour before Vernon's alarm goes off! I expect Dudders will be hungry as ever what with it being his special day!" She finished this on a whimsical note as she thought of her son Dudley.

Dudley Dursley was a mountain of a boy, and while Mrs. Dursley likened him to a baby angel, Harry likened him to a baby manatee. At ten, no eleven, years old, the boy resembled a parade balloon more than a child, pudginess bulging through every opening in whatever grey fabrics he'd decided to wear that day.

Another furious rap and a shrill, "Boy!" brought Harry from his musing as Mrs. Dursley's, already limited, patience ran out.

"I'm up now," chimed Harry as he dusted off hand-me-down shirt he'd been given to wear. He opened his cupboard inward and stepped out into the living room of Number 4 Privet Drive. Immediately, he was greeted with the angry face of his aunt Petunia.

As far as women go, Petunia Dursley would never win a sash and a beauty competition. With her thin neck, long face, grey Sunday dress, and false finger nails, she looked more likely to take "Best Kept Vulture" than "Miss London."

"You," she began, "are to fix a large breakfast for your uncle and cousin," she spoke low and slow, as though speaking to an infant on why they shouldn't bite an electrical cord. "I'll expect it done in an hour and so help me if there is any funny business!" She trailed off, leaving the implied threat to hang in the air like the smell of old cabbage.

* * *

Harry had only just taken the last of the bacon from the stove when he heard the familiar sound of His uncle Vernon's alarm clock. Seeing that his time was almost up, as surely it would take Uncle Vernon only minutes to wake up his sleeping son and make his way down to the kitchen, Harry quickly pilfered three glasses from the cabinet and filled them. One with coffee, for Uncle Vernon, one with tea, for Aunt Petunia, and the last with orange juice, for Dudley.

He then quickly took his spot at the far end of the table at least three feet from any of the other seats. He hadn't a plate of food or a cup of drink to be seen. He wasn't to eat with the Dursley Family; he was to eat once the family had left the table.

The kitchen door, as though wanting to keep the boy's thoughts from wandering to dark places, swung open and a rather plump man wearing grey and white striped pajamas stepped through. Beady brown eyes looking out from beneath bushy eyebrows scanned the room and found Harry, sitting exactly as he should be.

"Boy," grunted his uncle from behind his magnificent mustache in greeting before sitting at the opposite end of the table from Harry.

Harry needn't, nor did he have time to, respond as the kitchen door swung open to reveal what appeared to be a pig walking upright. This pig was his cousin, Dudley. And today was Dudley's eleventh birthday, a fact Aunt Petunia refused to let him forget as she trailed behind Dudley, carrying a birthday banner in one hand, and a birthday cake in the other.

As his aunt and uncle began to sing birthday tidings to Dudley, Harry was distracted by the sound of the doorbell, signaling the morning's post. And, as was routine, he excused himself to retrieve it.

Stooping down to pick up the deliveries, Harry silently flicked through them to see what had arrived, a favorite pass-time of his.

A brown, official looking, envelope that more than likely contained the power bill, a check for Uncle Vernon from his drilling company, a plain white envelope that smelled of hairspray and wet dog, _No doubt a birthday card from Aunt Marge_, thought Harry, quickly flicking to the next item.

This item was intriguing. It wasn't the old looking envelope that caught the young Potter's eye, or the wax seal that held it close. It wasn't even the nearly unnatural shade of green that comprised the ink the address was written in. No, what caught Harry Potter's eye was _to whom _the letter was addressed…

_Mr. H. J. Potter_

_The Cupboard Under the Stairs_

_Number Four Privet Drive_

_Little Whinging_

_He_ never received post. This was not normal.

This thought stopped Harry cold. _This is not normal._ He thought to himself again. _If my Aunt and Uncle see this it'll be gone before I know it._ And so, with this in mind, Harry slipped the letter through the blinds on his cupboard door as he made his way back to the kitchen. He silently swore to himself to read it tonight while his relatives were sleeping.

Finally reentering the kitchen he was greeted with an obviously annoyed Dudley, having just counted his mountain range of presents and finding it lacking, the laughing visage of Uncle Vernon as the man guffawed about how is son wanted "his money's worth," and the worried face of Aunt Petunia as she was finishing up on the telephone.

"Vernon," she began, a tone of disappointment darkened her words, "that was Mrs. Figg. She's broken her leg and can't take the boy."

Uncle Vernon's eyebrows furrowed as he tried to connect points A and B. "Why the bloody hell not?" he ground out, "a busted up leg doesn't keep her from simply watching the boy. It's not as if she'd have to change his nappies!" Vernon growled out the last sentence, obviously unhappy.

"She's in the hospital Vernon!" snapped his aunt. "She doesn't want the boy alone at her house anymore than we do here!"

"E-excuse me..?" mumbled Harry, his first words since exiting his cupboard sounded low and weak. "But why did you need someone to look after me today?"

It was as though someone had muted the Dursleys, that is until Vernon spoke, his voice low, and threatening, "Firstly, I never gave you permission to speak, boy." Harry flinched at this, in the excitement he had forgotten the house rules, forgotten that he was only to speak when spoken to or when in his cupboard. "Secondly, we need something to do with you while we take our Dudley to the zoo today."

Harry fidgeted awkwardly, trying his best to portray that he had a suggestion.

His uncle's eyes narrowed on him, "What is it boy?" spat the man, "Got something to say?"

"Y-yes sir," managed Harry, building his courage, "you could lock me in my cupboard, so I can't destroy the house. I'll even go without breakfast or lunch!" Harry sounded almost pleading, and while normally this would have been suspicious in the mind of Vernon Dursley, today was his son's birthday. And he'd be damned before he let his freak of a nephew destroy the special day.

His face contorted, struggling to find the answer when he finally sputtered out, "Fine!" Slipping another piece of bacon under his mustache, he ordered Harry to his cupboard.

* * *

And there he sat, in the cupboard, hiding his letter until he knew for sure that his relatives were gone. He listened as the laughing Dudley stomped down the stairs to meet his scrawny friend, Piers Polkis. He listened as Uncle Vernon took his keys from the shelf next to the cupboard. And finally he listened as his relatives left the house, piled into their car, and drove away.

This was it. Harry's mouth went dry as he pulled his letter from behind his pillow. Taking a moment to look it over before tearing into it, he took in the letter. The envelope was a natural shade of paper, looking like an older newspaper. The wax seal that held the letter close was unable to be made out in the low light of the cupboard.

Unable to contain himself any longer, Harry tore the envelope open and slipped the letter from its confines. Hands shaking, Harry unfurled the letter and read:

_HOGWARTS SCHOOL_

_of WITCHCRAFT and WIZARDRY_

_Headmaster: ALBUS DUMBLEDORE_

_(Order of Merlin, First Class, Grand Sorc., Chf. Warlock,_

_Supreme Mugwump, International Confed. of Wizards)_

_Dear Mr. Potter,_

_ We are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Please find enclosed a list of all necessary books and equipment._

_ Term begins on September 1. We await your owl by no later than July 31._

_Yours sincerely,_

_Minerva McGonagall,_

_Deputy Headmistress_

If he hadn't known any better, Harry would have thought this to be a sick joke, played on him by the Dursleys. But he _did _know better. They could tolerate a joke no more than they could tolerate him. So Harry was left with one of three choices. Either someone other than the Dursley's were cruel enough to play this kind of joke on him, the sender had made a mistake and the letter was not meant for him, or perhaps, just perhaps, this was all true and he really was a w- a wi-. He couldn't even bring himself to think the word. _But I must! _He thought to himself, _If I'm to believe this then I must overcome. _Harry steadied himself and said aloud, "Perhaps I _am_ a wizard…"

* * *

That night, once the Dursleys had returned, let him out of his cupboard, and after listening to Dudley complains, quite loudly, that the largest snake in the zoo was a stick in the mud, Harry pilfered a pen and a piece of paper from the phone-side notepad. He had decided, he would reply tonight!

Luckily for young Harry, his uncle never locked him in his cupboard at night, unless he was in trouble. So, that night he sat out to write his letter.

_Dear Headmaster Dumbledore,_

_ While I don't quite know how I could have been accepted to your school, having never heard of it before today, I would like to attend very much._

_ On the school book list, I'm afraid I may need help, as I have neither money nor any idea on how to find such items. I wouldn't know where to begin looking for a pewter cauldron!_

_ And what do you mean "owl?" Is that a wizard term for the post? I have so many questions Sir and I hope you will be able to answer them._

_Sincerely,_

_Harry James Potter_

Harry folded the letter in half and quickly jotted down the sending address of:

_HOGWARTS SCHOOL _

_of WITCHCRAFT and WIZARDRY_

He then, quietly as he could, snuck out of his cupboard and tiptoed through the living room, pausing every couple of steps to listen for Uncle Vernon's noisy snores.

Reaching the door harry grabbed the nob and turned, he felt a resistance and feared the door was locked but no sooner had he felt that fear had the resistance vanished. Deciding that his uncle had only locked it half-way by mistake, Harry made a note to lock it back on his way back inside.

Stepping quickly across the cold surface of the concrete walkway, it took Harry mere moments to reach the postbox. No sooner than he had though, he realized he had two deadly problems with his plan. First was that he couldn't send this through the postbox! What would the carrier think? What if Uncle Vernon found the letter before it was taken? Second, and less important if one were to ask Harry, was that he had forgotten stamps anyway. Quickly noting that he could ask Mrs. Figg when he was sent to her on Sunday while his relatives went to church, Harry turned around.

A flurry of quiet noises sounded as soon as his back was turned, looking behind him he saw a beautiful creature, it stood nearly 70cm tall, was brown with black flecks, had two horn-like feathers atop its head and two calculating orange eyes. Harry recognized this creature and a smiled split across his face, "An owl!" he whispered excitedly.

He approached the owl slowly with his letter, which it looked at expectedly. But instead of reaching out with the letter, as the owl was so accustomed, the boy reached out with his other hand. Unsure of what to do, it simply stood there as the boy's fingers reached the owl. After a second or two it realized two things, it was being petted, and it really liked being petted. But, all nice things must come to an end, so the owl stretched its head toward the letter and clicked its beak.

As though woken up from a dream, Harry quickly remembered his letter. "You can take this for me?" he quietly asked the owl.

The owl gave him a look that seemed to ask, '_Why would you think I couldn't?'_ It then stretched out its leg, upon which was a tube. Rolling up his letter, the boy slipped it into the owls carrying case and, giving the owl a final scratch behind its wing, backed away, giving the owl enough room to spread its wings and take off.

Waiting a moment to watch the creature fly, Harry quickly remembered that his goose would be cooked if his uncle found him outside in the middle of the night. And so with his letter sent, and a bounce in his step, Harry Potter made his way back into Number 4 Privet Drive, witches, wizards, and magic on his mind.


	2. Chapter 2

_Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter. Although I do own three sets of the books._

_Previously: __And so with his letter sent, and a bounce in his step, Harry Potter made his way back into Number 4 Privet Drive, witches, wizards, and magic on his mind._

~o0O0o~

When the Dursley's breakfast routine began the next day, Harry was unable to hide his excitement. He seemed to barely touch the ground as he flitted around fixing his relatives' plates. This, however, did not escape the ever vigilant and beady eyes of Uncle Vernon.

"What's got you so excited boy?" growled the portly man through mouthfuls of omelets.

Harry jumped as though he'd been electrocuted, "O-oh, nothing," he quickly dismissed, "I just slept really well last night sir."

He had just finished laying out his cousin Dudley's food, in no hurry as the oaf had yet to make an appearance at the dinner table, when the doorbell rang. Harry quickly excused himself to retrieve the morning's post, eager to know if he'd received an answer.

No sooner than he'd wrapped his fingers around the kitchen doorknob, a tired and confused voice rang out from the other side.

"Mum? Dad?" came the voice of Harry's cousin Dudley, "Harry's got a letter!"

Harry was afraid to look behind himself to see how his relatives had taken the news. He'd just gathered the courage to turn when the rather large hand of his uncle clamped down onto his shoulder and threw him roughly to the floor.

Vernon had charged through, knocking Harry to the ground and slamming the kitchen door open, in an attempt to get to the post before his rather nosey son opened the letter for himself.

By the time Harry had gotten into the living room his uncle was reading the letter, out of reach of the jumping form of his cousin. Harry's heart sank, he could see his uncle's face slowly turning purple with rage, growing more and more violet with every passing word.

Then, his uncle spoke. In a voice not fitting an obviously furious man, Vernon said, "Petunia, darling, take Dudley down to the store for some candy. I need a word with the boy."

Wordlessly, and without an expression on her face, Petunia Dursley took her struggling son by the arm and led him out to the car, ignoring the young boy's pleads to stop so he could watch his father teach the freak a lesson.

Once the door was closed, Vernon watched out the window as his family drove away in their car. This worried Harry. _'What,'_ he thought, _'does Uncle Vernon have planned that he doesn't want any witnesses?'_

"Boy," came his uncle's gruff voice, still curiously calm, "I am going to make a deal with you." If the letter had not been normal, _this _was downright _supernatural!_

"A-a deal, sir?" questioned Harry, still disbelieving.

Grunting the affirmative, Vernon took a seat in his lazy chair and took a deep breath. "I will allow you to go to this school, in exchange for a few things," offered his uncle, to which Harry quickly nodded and continued listening. "You are _not,_" his voice raised momentarily, betraying how much he loathed not only dealing with anything even remotely out of the ordinary, and speaking to his nephew on more civil ground, "to speak of this _sham _of a school over the summer breaks. You are _not_ going to be doing any m-" he paused. Swallowing in order to steel himself he continued, "Magic, under my roof."

'_Magic,' _thought Harry. He hadn't dared to think that word himself. Harry was afraid that what happened yesterday would be revealed as a lie the moment he began to believe in magic. But here was his uncle, Vernon Dursley, the man that had once canceled a vacation to France because a street magician had tried to guess his pants size, talking about magic as if it were real, whether he liked it or not.

"I'm only making this deal," continued Mr. Dursley, "because you've already responded so we can't tell them you don't live here now, and you have a terrible knack for doing things I don't want you to do." Vernon stretched his hand out to Harry, "But this way, it's on my terms."

Harry looked from the hand to his uncle. Uncle Vernon looked unhappyabout the subject of the talk. Harry took his uncle's hand and gave it a firm shake, and as they broke the handshake, the doorbell rang.

~oO0Oo~

Minerva McGonagall was a rather stern looking woman, but the look on her face as she strolled down one of the many streets in the muggle town, if you could call it that, of Little Whinging, was one of content. The fact of the matter was, she'd had a great day. Of all the muggleborn households she'd been to today, not a single one had threatened to call the authorities or slammed the door in her face. One family, a couple of muggle doctors of some sort, had even accepted her offer of bringing their daughter on her first trip to Diagon Alley!

The professor turned round and offered a kind smile to her young ward.

Hermione Granger smiled enthusiastically back, flashing her larger than average front teeth, as she struggled to walk in a straight line. The poor dear just had her first experience with magical transportation, and while McGonagall was no fan of brooms, she'd have preferred that a million times over the chaotic ride known as the Knight Bus. Alas, only the Knight Bus could get them both here relatively safely.

Hermione, on the other hand was ecstatic about the ride in the magnificent vehicle! It had completely and utterly destroyed any doubts she'd had about magic. It was hard to doubt magic when a triple-decker bus literally squeezes through London's morning traffic without a soul noticing.

Her day had been wonderful as well. She had hardly expected a reply to her letter to come so soon. But, not only had the letter come the very next day, it had also heralded the visit of a teacher! She'd been so excited that she could barely breathe. Once Professor McGonagall had arrived Hermione had flooded the poor woman with questions that the teacher had appeared more than pleased to answer!

"My goodness," the severe looking woman had said, "Never in all my life have I met a child so filled with wonder and curiosity!" The praise was amazing but Hermione desperately wanted to know more, so when the Deputy Headmistress had offered to take her on her first trip to the magical shopping center known as Diagon Alley, Hermione had practically begged her parents until they relented.

She had been slightly miffed when her chaperone informed her that they had another stop to make before the Alley, but her excitement came back tenfold when she learned that they were picking up another future Hogwarts student. Someone she could share magical discoveries with! Perhaps even her first friend in the magical community.

Hermione was kept from continuing this line of thought when she walked right into the side of Professor McGonagall. "We're here Ms. Granger." Stated the professor as they faced the house marked by a number 4. She then approached and rang the doorbell.

~o0O0o~

At the sound of the doorbell, Uncle Vernon got to his feet. "That'll be her then," he said mostly to himself, but Harry felt the need to respond anyway.

"Who Uncle Vernon?"

His uncle looked at him, clearly still getting used to being on speaking terms with his nephew. "One of the teachers from that school of yours." Harry noticed that his uncle was refraining from actually addressing him. More than likely he didn't feel he could rightfully call harry _'Boy' _anymore. "She's here to take you for your things," explained Vernon as he opened the door and faced the severe looking woman outside. His uncle didn't offer any greetings; he simply stood to the side to allow the professor in.

Minerva entered, slightly peeved at the lack of a greeting, but it wasn't a door in her face so it still hadn't ruined her good day. Behind her was a small girl, slightly taller than Harry, and with a lot of bushy brown hair. When she saw Harry her face lit with excitement and she waved enthusiastically. Timidly, Harry waved back.

"You," began the older woman, addressing Harry's uncle, "are Mr. Dursley I presume?" At the portly man's nod she introduced herself, "I am Minerva McGonagall, Deputy Headmistress and Transfigurations professor for Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, and this," she stepped aside, leaving Hermione standing center in the room, "is Hermione Granger. She and young Harry are going to be class mates." The professor turned towards Harry, "She didn't know she was a witch until she got her letter either. So you two can learn about the magical world together." Out of the corner of her eye she noticed a distinct flinch from the form of Vernon Dursley at any mention of magic.

Harry stretched out a hand to the teacher, "Hello," he greeted, "I'm Harry, Harry Potter."

McGonagall chuckled, "I know very well who you are my boy, I was very dear friends with your p-" she was cut off, nervously, by Mr. Dursley.

"It's getting late isn't it? Hadn't you lot better get going so the b- _Harry,_ can be back in time for bed? It's nearly noon now." Uncle Vernon looked very nervous indeed about whatever it was the older witch had been about to say.

But Professor McGonagall stepped over to the window and looked out, "You're quite right of course. Come along children, I expect you'll want more time to explore the Alley on your first visit." Uncle Vernon quickly handed Harry a roll of money and ushered him out the door.

Slightly dizzy from the sudden and forced exit, Harry followed professor to the end of the walk. After looking around, McGonagall held out a slender piece of wood and raised it above her head. Almost immediately a very large and very purple blur came speeding down the street and stopped directly in front of the trio. Two doors opened up near the front of the vehicle and a voice called out, "Welcome to the Knight Bus!"

"Wicked…" breathed Harry at his first experience with magic.

Hermione was quick to board the bus and within seconds had already taken a seat near the back.

Harry followed behind and took a seat next to her while the professor paid for their fare. "Your name's Hermione, right?" questioned Harry, desperately hoping he hadn't forgotten her name.

Hermione smiled, nodded, and stuck out a hand, "That's right. And you're Harry?"

Harry shook her hand with a nod and, with Professor McGonagall looking on with a smile, the two did their best to chat during the chaotic bus ride through London.

~o0O0o~

Once they had stopped and the children had staggered off of the Knight Bus, Harry and Hermione looked around and shared a confused look. This place wasn't anywhere magical. They were merely in an alley in the middle of London. Harry was about to turn around to voice his skepticism when Professor McGonagall walked past him and up to a brick wall. Curious, the duo watched in interest as the Deputy Headmistress took out her wand, counted the bricks, tapping on or another occasionally. Suddenly the bricks began to melt away, revealing what looked to be a pub.

"Mornin' Professor!" called a voice of a man from behind the bar, "And welcome to the Leaky Cauldron!" The man then took notice of the children. "Well hello there!" he greeted cheerfully, then turned back to the professor, "Firs' Years Minerva?"

She nodded back in response, "Aye, Tom. I'm taking these two to do their school shopping," she explained.

Nodding, Tom began to look the two over. He started with Hermione and after a moment he told her, "I can already tell you're a smart one, you look like the bookish type." Turning away from the blushing Hermione he faced Harry. His eyes fell upon the lightning shaped scar on his forehead and Tom's eyes widened for but a moment, "Blimey, is that..?" Tom trailed off, looking to Professor McGonagall. She nodded back and the barkeep turned to Harry and stuck out a hand. "I'd very much like to shake your hand."'

Confused, but unwilling to turn down a friendly gesture, Harry took the man's hand and slowly shook it. He had wanted to ask Tom why the man was so interested in shaking Harry's hand, but Professor McGonagall hurried them out of the Leaky Cauldron before anyone else could have noticed them.

Looking down the street, unfazed by being suddenly jostled as they still had so much to see. As the walked down the street bot Hermione and Harry were amazed. All down the alley, people in bright colored robes of all different fabrics went in and out of various shops. A young wizard in a lime green robe had just exited what Harry assumed to be a pet shop, with a cage that contained a small tawny owl. On the other side of the street, an older witch came out of another store and pulled out her wand. She conjured a floating mirror which she rotated around herself as she examined her new hat and quickly realized she hadn't removed the price tag.

Looking up at the store signs, Hermione and Harry read a couple of them before McGonagall urged them forward;

_Matilda's Magical Makeup_

_One Touch and Watch Your Blemishes_

_Disappear_

_Dan and Webber's Discount Words_

_Ollivander's Out of your Price Range?_

_Same Great Quality_

_Much Lower Price_

Harry didn't know anything about makeup, but as far as wands went he didn't think he'd trust anyone that presented themselves as second best. He'd had less than the best his whole life, now he'd decided that he was going to change that. Harry patted the roll of pounds in his pocket and thought idly to himself, _'I just hope this is enough.'_

~o0O0o~

At the end of Diagon Alley was a large courtyard of sorts. Surrounding it on most sides were various shops and vendors, but the building that caught Harry's eye was the one directly across from them. The building stood at what must have been six stories tall, and while he had seen bigger building on hi, few and far between, trips to the city, compared to the wizarding shops in Diagon Alley, this building could have been a skyscraper. It was made of a smooth, pure white stone and above the front doors, in large golden letters, was a sign that read, _Gringotts Wizarding Bank._

"That children," started the professor, "is where we are heading."

Hermione looked confused, "But Professor, I already have money." She pulled out an older looking money clip in order to show the Deputy Headmistress.

Harry was looking downtrodden, now he knew he didn't have enough money. Hermione's money clip was thicker than the roll of bills in his pocket. He was beginning to get upset, when Professor McGonagall laughed.

"Yes, Ms. Granger," began the smiling woman, "But that isn't wizard money. And Harry here will need to withdraw some money for himself as well."

"Withdraw?" Harry asked, "What do you mean Professor?"

"My dear boy, did you think your parents left you with nothing?"

Now Harry was very confused, "My parents? What do my parents have to do with this?" It just did not make sense t the boy. He had thought they were talking about wizard money, he didn't know what his parents could have had to do with that. Unless… "Were," began a very nervous Harry Potter, "Were my parents magical?"

Professor McGonagall stopped short of the bank. Did he not know? This didn't make any sense. He was supposed to have been informed. He was supposed to know. She turned to face him and, upon seeing the desperate look in his eyes, hesitated. "Here is not the place," she began, looking at the people all around them, "We will speak in the bank. So please wait just a minute more." With that she ushered open the doors to Gringotts Wizarding Bank.


	3. Chapter 3

_Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter_

_Previously: "Here is not the place," Professor McGonagall began, looking at the people all around them, "We will speak in the bank. So please wait just a minute more." With that she ushered open the doors to Gringotts Wizarding Bank._

~o0O0o~

Once they had entered the bank Harry began to look expectantly at the professor. Having noticed the looks, McGonagall sighed. "As soon as we have finished our business here Mr. Potter," she began, "It would not do well to address goblins without giving them your full attention."

Placated, Harry turned his attention back to the bank as they walked towards the end of a rather large and empty entrance hall. Hermione, however, was now quite curious. "Goblins?" she questioned.

"Indeed," came the professor's reply, "All of Magical Britain's money is handled by the goblin race."

"Why's that Professor?" asked Harry, his own interest piqued.

"It was a way to appease them," began the older witch, "I could explain more but as you are not yet acquainted with the magical world, I fear it would do little to no good. You would be left with more questions than answers." She smiled at the two, "Although, I promise that once we leave Gringotts we will go to buy your school books. Any questions you have about Human/Goblin Relations can be answered in the book, _A History of Magic_ by Bathilda Bagshot."

Right as she finished this sentence they arrived at the opposite end of the hall, coming up to a rather large pair of silver doors. Upon closer inspection, Harry found that there was an inscription on the doors. Apparently, Hermione also noticed as she began reading aloud:

"_Enter, stranger, but take heed_

_Of what awaits the sin of greed,_

_For those who take, but do not earn,_

_Must pay most dearly in their turn._

_So if you seek beneath our floors_

_A treasure that was never yours,_

_Thief, you have been warned, beware_

_Of finding more than treasure there."_

"If this is how they protect someone else's money," began Harry, "then I'd say it's a good thing they guard it." It baffled the boy slightly, he could hardly imagine guarding his own things that fervently, yet here they, quite obviously, went to extreme measures to guard money that wasn't even theirs. _'Of course,'_ Harry thought to himself, _'I've never really had anything worth protecting.'_

Professor McGonagall smiled down at the two prospective students and then, with a wave of her wand, beckoned the doors to open.

~o0O0o~

Things were going fairly well for Vernon Dursley, all things considered. Sure, he'd had one of _their lot_ in his house, but she'd left nearly as quickly as she'd came. Then he'd been forced to make a deal with his freak of a nephew. But this also meant that he wouldn't have to deal with his freakishness, even when the boy wasn't in school. Vernon may not like the boy, he loathed him in fact, but he knew the boy would keep his word.

He heard his car pull up in the driveway and his thoughts came to an abrupt end, as he realized something. He had no idea how to tell his wife what he'd done. She would enter in here and expect him to have punished her sister's spawn.

He was quickly out of time to think as the door burst open. His son stood in the doorway, arms bulging with candy. "Wher's Hawy?" he asked, through mouthfuls of sweets, "Ah wana show him aww dis candy he cant hav!" Vernon's little man then ran off through the house to find the boy.

Petunia walked in the doorway shortly after, "So how was it," she asked as she shut the door.

Vernon, playing dumb, asked, "How was what, Pet?"

Fooled by her husband's act, Petunia Dursley clarified, "When that _teacher,_" she spat the word out as though it tasted of sour milk, "came to collect the boy. How did you get her to leave?"

Vernon was about to answer when Dudley came in from the kitchen, having deposited his candy somewhere, and opened the cupboard under the stairs. Huffing the boy turned to his mother, "Mum," he whined, "Harry's nowhere in the house."

Mr. Dursley felt a chill go through his well insulated spine, and he heard his wife speak, "Diddydums, go up to your bedroom. Daddy and I need to talk…" Things did not bode well for Vernon Dursley.

~o0O0o~

As Harry, Hermione, and Professor McGonagall headed back towards the entrance hall, Harry struggled to wrap his head around two things. The first was how weird wizard money worked. The Accounts Manager, Griphook, had explained that wizard money worked around something called Thorton's Monetary Standard. What this meant was that, unlike non-magical money, _'Muggle money,'_ Harry reminded himself, where one-hundred pence went into a pound, Wizarding money went differently. Twenty-nine knuts in a sickle. Seventeen sickles in a galleon. Though this seemed strange to Harry, he assumed that was because he was raised in a muggle community.

The second thing he was coming to grips with was the fact that he was rich. Sure he couldn't have bought his own castle or anything, but he was rather set for life. To be honest though, he hadn't a clue what to do with all that money. Growing up as he had, he really didn't have any outstanding wants. Harry supposed that he could just buy something if he had a sudden urge to. He looked over to Hermione, who was reading over the short amount of notes she had taken about wizard money. Perhaps he didn't have to spend it exclusively on himself.

As they passed through the silver doors, Harry once again looked expectantly at their chaperone, an while she didn't seem to notice, Hermione certainly did.

"Professor," she began, "I believe you promised Harry an explanation." She looked over to her new friend and smiled.

Minerva stopped short; she'd hoped they would have forgotten. The topic at hand was not one she felt was hers to discuss. One look at Harry though, and she knew she owed it to him. After all, if she didn't trust herself to tell him the story of his parents, then whom could she trust?

Sighing, she waved her hand and conjured three chairs for them. Taking her seat in the larger one, she looked to Harry. "As you've no doubt realized, given the existence of your trust vault, your parents were indeed magical, Mr. Potter." She smiled as she recalled some of the times she'd shared with the Potters. "And very powerful."

Harry looked hopeful, "You knew my parents Professor?"

"Indeed, though not as well as I would've liked," she answered.

This time it was Hermione that had a question, "What do you mean Ma'am?"

Professor McGonagall smiled, "I was their teacher in Hogwarts. Don't look surprised Harry, nearly every wizard in Magical Britain studies at Hogwarts."

Harry smiled, to think that he would be attending the same school as his parents.

"I suppose you'll want to know how it happened then?"

This confused Harry, "How what happened?"

Minerva looked nervous, as though she wasn't comfortable bringing this up, "How they… died Mr. Potter."

Harry, though slightly flinching at the mention of his parents' death, sighed. "I already know how they died Professor."

The Hogwarts professor was surprised at this, "I'm sorry Mr. Potter. When I realized that your relatives hadn't told you about the magical world, I assumed they didn't tell you about how your parents passed."

Confused, Harry looked at his future teacher, "What does the magical world have to do with it?" Harry's voice took on a tone of shame, "They were drunkards, and they crashed their car. They didn't even care enough about my safety not to drive totally drunk…" The more he talked the more he seemed to slouch down in his chair, across from him however, his words were having the opposite effect.

With every word Harry spoke, Minerva sat taller and straighter, her face contorted with fury. She was not angry with the child. No. He simply didn't know any better. But she would be correcting that now, and source of the problem when she returned Harry to Privet Drive.

"Harry Potter," Professor McGonagall began sternly, her voice betraying the anger she felt, "I can assure you that Lily and James Potter did not die in a car crash. They were not drunkards. And they most assuredly did care about your safety."

Harry looked up and met the professor's eyes. She was surprised that he had no tears but she did not swell on that. What she saw in his eyes was fear. He was afraid of her. This did not bode well. Forcing herself to calm down, she reached out to Harry, but stopped as he flinched and looked back down at his feet.

Hermione didn't know what to do. She almost felt as though she were intruding in a private moment, but she knew that Harry didn't need to be alone right now. Then she saw Professor McGonagall try to comfort Harry. When he flinched away, Hermione knew what she could do. She reached out and took one of Harry's hands in her own and gave it a reassuring squeeze. She wanted him to know that she was here for him.

McGonagall smiled at their silent exchange and, with a much softer voice, said, "Harry, I know for a fact that your parents loved you very much."

"How?" came his quiet reply.

"They gave their lives to protect yours."

Harry's head snapped up, "What do you mean?" he demanded.

Annoyed by his rudeness but understanding the cause of it, Professor McGonagall continued, "On the night of Halloween, in 1981, your parents had already been in hiding for a couple of months. I don't know how, but they had received word that a very powerful dark wizard was out for them."

"But why?" asked Harry. Why his parents? Why did it have to be his family?

"Alas," began Minerva, "I'm afraid I do not have that answer." She sighed, "But that night, he found them. There weren't any witnesses, but from the destruction, we can tell certain things." She stopped and looked at Harry, "Are you sure you want me to continue? It is your right to know, but if you wish to postpone…"

"Please Professor," the Potter boy pleaded as he gave Hermione's hand a squeeze, "I need to know."

Nodding, she told on, "We can only assume that the dark wizard tracked them down to their home in Godric's Hollow. He them blasted down the door and surprised your parents, or your father at any rate. From the damage to the inside of the home, we can guess that _he_ and your father then dueled, but while your father put up more of a fight than most wizards can boast, he was eventually defeated." She looked to Harry, who nodded for her to continue.

Sighing, she did as he wished, "He then made his way up the stairs and into the nursery where you slept. Your mother, though the best witch in her graduating year, did not fight. If I were to guess, she was pleading to the wizard. Begging him to spare you, her son. I need not say what fate befell her." She took a moment to wipe her eye, as she was beginning to tear up, "Then, _he_ moved to the crib. He fired a curse at you Harry, a curse that was meant to kill you, a curse that had killed every other person at the end of that wand. But it didn't kill you. We don't know how, but when the Dark Lord fired his killing curse at you, it bounced back at him."

Looking at Harry once again, she finished the tale, "And that was how you were found. Standing in a crib, surrounded by the bodies of your parents and the wizard that had killed them."

Harry let all of this sink in, they had loved him. They had loved him so much that they had given their lives to save his own. Now, a feeling of great shame washed over him as he realized just how angry he had been at them. After all, before today he had believed them to be drunkards whose poor decisions had made him into an orphan. Now that the anger was gone, he only felt shame towards his own thoughts.

Hermione squeezed his hand again and Harry looked at her. He was glad she was with him, he didn't know how he would have taken this alone. But he did still have one question that needed answering.

"Who was he?" he asked, looking back to the professor.

"I'm sorry?" asked Minerva, as she finished wiping her eyes.

"The wizard that killed them, you never said his name."

A slight blush of embarrassment touched the cheeks of the older woman, "I hadn't even realized. Hardly anyone says the name anymore."

Hermione immediately asked the question on Harry's mind, "Why Professor?"

"Many, myself included, though I loath to admit it, are still scared, Ms. Granger. But you do deserve to know his name," she admitted and took a breath to steady herself. "His name, was Lord Voldemort."

McGonagall then stood up suddenly, "Come now, we've been here much too long." She looked to her young companions, and with a smile, told Harry, "I promise to tell you more stories of your parents as soon as I can, but we must get your school supplies before the day is done."

Harry and Hermione followed the teacher out onto Diagon Alley and though Harry desperately wanted to know more about his parents, he understood that they had precious little time to spare.

~o0O0o~

Their first stop after leaving the bank had been to retrieve their wands. Hermione had gotten hers without much fuss. It was a 10 ¾" wand made of vine wood and a core of a dragon heartstring.

But when the wand crafter had seen Harry, he had gotten a joyful glee in his eye. "Ah! Mr. Potter!" he had exclaimed, startling the poor boy. "I have been waiting many years to give you your first wand."

"Why me sir?" Harry had asked, once his heart had stopped racing of course.

"My dear boy, I eagerly await the children of all my previous customers." Seeing the effect this had on the child, Mr. Ollivander smiled, "Yes, I remember them very well. Your father's wand was exactly eleven inches, made of mahogany and had a core of acromantula silk! In all my days I've only made three wands with acromantula silk and his remains the only one I've sold!"

Now Harry may not have known what an "Acromantula" was, but the point of the statement was not lost on him. This man, Mr. Ollivander, was telling him something special about his father, and though he may not know the significance of it, but he was still grateful.

"Now as for your mother," continued the wandmaker as he began telling Harry about the other half of his parentage.

~o0O0o~

Vernon Dursley was, by no means, a stupid man. He knew that he'd entered a no-win situation when he found out that his nephew had already answered one letter. He knew that, no matter what he did, that _freak _would find someway to learn that freakishness.

But he just couldn't convince his wife. She was making him out to be the bad guy! Accusing him of choosing them over her! Why he'd never heard of such a thing! Why couldn't he make her realize that, with things this way, at least they wouldn't have to deal with any of the boy's nonsense?

These thoughts and more flitted through Vernon's mind as he attempted to wash dishes. This was the punishment his wife had given him, saying, "If the boy wont be here someone must do his chores. And youll be on the streets before you put my Diddydumpkins to work!"

Vernon wished his nephew would return soon, if only to change the target of his wife's ire.

~o0O0o~

Much of the rest of the trip to Diagon Alley was rather boring. They went to the bookstore called _Flourish and Blott's. _It was in this store that he discovered Hermione's love for all things books and reading. She had also shown him that he somewhat shared this love, though not to the extremes that Hermione took.

Their last stop had been at a store known as _The Magical Menagerie._ Every inch of wall was taken up by a cage, many containing single animals, some containing many. Immediately, Harry pulled Hermione off to the owl section, telling her all about the magnificent owl that had taken his letter for him.

When they reached the owls, Harry looked around but, though many of the owls were gorgeous (one snowy white one had caught his eye for a moment), none of them were the owl he wanted.

"Professor?" he questioned as Hermione found her way to some kittens, "You know the owl that brought my letter to you?"

Raising an eyebrow, the professor nodded, "Oberon? Yes, I know him. Why do you ask, Mr. Potter? Were you wishing to purchase him?"

Harry, rather shocked that Professor McGonagall had discovered his intentions without so much as trying, sputtered, "Y-yes," he quickly composed himself, "I would very much like that."

Laughing, the Professor nodded, "You can indeed buy him from Hogwarts Harry. Although, I have to warn you, he costs twenty-five galleons," she cautioned, but Harry did not care and but moments later he was twenty-five gold coins lighter.

After that Harry had tried to convince Hermione to let him buy her a kitten, but she simply would not hear of it. They had playfully argued for several minutes before Harry threw in the towel.

As they left the store, left the Alley, and filed onto the muggle streets of London, Harry was slowly became very sad. After today he had almost forgotten that he had to go back to his relatives' house. He looked at all of the great things he'd bought: his robes, wand, trunk, school books, cauldron set, and the glinting metal cage that would house Oberon once the owl arrived at his house. His uncle may have been willing to make a deal, but he'd bet every galleon in his vault that Aunt Petunia wouldn't agree so easily.

So, after Professor McGonagall called the Knight Bus, Harry and Hermione, one wearing a downtrodden expression, and the other worrying about the first, filed onto the triple-decker bus.

~o0O0o~

The bus's next stop would be Hermione's house. Before she exited the bus she gave Harry a promise. "We will see each other at school," she had stated, determination in her eyes, "If not before that!" Of course he had readily returned the sentiment before being engulfed in a hug. Not knowing how to react, Harry had just stood there awkwardly until the driver of the bus had told them to either exit or to find a broom closet.

Once they had sat back in their seats, Harry turned to his future teacher, "Professor," he questioned, "Why are we dropping Hermione off first? Wouldn't it have made more sense to drop me off first since you picked me up last?"

Minerva laughed at being caught in her planning by a mere ten year old, "I suppose I am not quite as good as Albus when it comes to disguising my intent," she mused, obviously to herself. "You see Harry, I have a few questions for your relatives." Her gaze darkened as anger slightly tinged her expression, "And if I am not satisfied with their answers, there will be hell to pay."

_AN: Sorry for the wait guys. I re-wrote this chapter three times. I promise the big DURSLEY! Argument will be next chapter. Please let me know what you think and share any ideas with me. I read all of my reviews and I secretly get really excited when a new one appears. _

_AAN: Aren't you guys glad I don't do April Fools day pranks?_


	4. Chapter 4

_Disclaimer: Meesa not owns Harry Potters, nosa sir!_

_Previously: "You see Harry, I have a few questions for your relatives." Minerva's gaze darkened as anger slightly tinged her expression, "And if I am not satisfied with their answers, there will be hell to pay."_

~o0O0o~

If one were to look at the windows of Number 4 Privet drive, they would likely have seen nothing out of the ordinary on most evenings. On this particular evening, however, one would see the rather angry face of one Petunia Dursley. Her face would occasionally peer out between dull purple curtains and glare out the window, appearing to all as though she were mad at the street for simply being there.

But Mrs. Dursley was not angry at the street. She was waiting for the object of her anger to arrive. He'd be in his cupboard until he was nothing but dust if she had her way. He, of course, was referring to her nephew.

When she'd returned for the petrol station, she'd expected to find her husband, belt in hand, standing over the small for of her sister's spawn. But she had instead found him sitting on his arse and the freak was nowhere to be seen. She'd eventually managed to get him to say what he'd done. Petunia had been furious. She'd made her husband do all of the freak's chores. How dare he? How _dare _he allow that abomination in their house? She'd spent nearly eleven years trying to make the boy so miserable that every last drop of that _magic _in his eyes would dry up.

Now she had to end this before it was too late. She kept looking out the window, not knowing if they'd approach by land or air. But as soon as she saw them she'd be ready. Finally, the time had come. Petunia had happened to look out the window just in time to see an abnormally large bus let off the boy and a woman she could only assume to be another freak.

~o0O0o~

Nearly as soon as Harry's luggage was off of the bus, the front door to Number Four slammed open. His aunt's furious visage approached towards them like a great tidal wave. "You," she glowered at Professor McGonagall, "will leave my property at once!" His aunt spoke in a loud whisper; Harry supposed that she didn't want to make a scene any bigger than it was already.

But if Petunia Dursley was a tidal wave, then Minerva McGonagall was a mountain. She stood stock-still. To Harry, it looked as though every part of the woman, from her hair to her shoes, absolutely despised his aunt. "You listen here," began Professor McGonagall in a dangerous tone, not bothering to lower her voice in the slightest, "You are going to invite me into your house. We are going to have a discussion like civilized adults. Do I make myself clear?" When Petunia brought her hand up, already with a finger extended to point in any direction that wasn't her house, the professor cut her off, "I needn't remind you that if you send me away I am fully capable of forcing my way in." Now to Harry, this was very easily identified as a bluff. The Deputy Headmistress had already explained that doing magic in front of muggles that didn't already know of its existence was strictly prohibited. It appeared, however, that his aunt was not aware of this.

The words had an immediate effect on Mrs. Dursley. She paled significantly and, only for a second mind you, glanced down at the witch's hands. "Y-yes, of course," Petunia ground out in a stutter, "Please… come in…"

Saying nothing, Minerva strode past Mrs. Dursley with Harry in tow. Once they were safely in the doors, the professor asked Harry to bring his things up to his room while his aunt and her talked. She then started to round on his aunt but stopped short. Instead of bringing his trunk and supplies up the stairs, as she had instructed, Harry had begun stuffing them into a small cupboard under the stairs. Figuring this was simply a storage closet, McGonagall walked quickly over, she told Harry to go play outside and that she would take care of his luggage.

Once Harry was out of sight she began to remove the luggage, much to the disdain of Petunia, in order to place it in more effectively. Once the trunk was removed, McGonagall froze. Inside the cupboard was a very small mat. The mat was covered in a single sheet and the professor was sure she'd spied a spider crawl inside of it. She saw small, broken, toys neatly lining the shelves of the cupboard.

It suddenly hit her. She'd told Harry to put his things in his room and that was what he was doing. It was as if lava was flowing through her veins as anger took hold of the Transfigurations professor. Storming over to the woman of the house, McGonagall took out her wand.

"PUT THAT THI—"

Silencing her with nothing but a look, Professor McGonagall cast a privacy charm to ensure that none of the other occupants would hear. But her casting was a moment too late, as Vernon Dursley had heard the beginning of a shriek that had issued from his wife's mouth and stormed into the room.

"What the devil is going on!" he shouted. Then he saw the professor and paled.

_"Sit… Down…" _commanded the furious teacher, and Vernon instantly sat in his chair, looking fearfully from the witch to the small piece of wood in her hand. Mrs. Dursley, however, would not be so easily ordered.

"You dare come into MY home and order me?!" shrilled Petunia.

"I dare to order you around because you have proven yourselves to be utterly selfish and borderline abusive when left to your own devices, _Madam!_" Minerva ended the sentence on a sarcastic note, obviously considering the term 'madam' to be a much to prestigious title for the woman in front of her. "You made him sleep in a _cupboard!_ Merlin's Beard, Pet—"

The female Dursley now stood nearly nose-to-nose with the witch as she cut her off mid sentence, "DO NOT USE MY NAME YOU FREAK OF NATURE!" Her eyes were bright with anger as she shrieked at the severe woman in front of her. "We never even wanted the boy! He could have rotted on my doorstep and I wouldn't have seen fit to even dig him a grave if it hadn't been that the neighbors would have seen him! He should have died that night! Him, his LOUSE of a father and my WHORE of a sis—"

Petunia suddenly stopped. She felt something poke her underneath her chin. She didn't have to see it to know that she had a wand at her throat. "I warn you," threatened Minerva, her voice quivering, "I have never used my wand against a muggle before, but I will spend the rest of my days in Azkaban before I allow you to finish that sentence." She looked to the man still sitting in the chair, "And do _you _have anything to say on this matter?"

Vernon looked desperately like he wanted to be left out of this. Even he had not known the depths of his wife's hatred of the boy. He had simply not liked the idea that there were people out there that could do things he would never be able to do himself. He'd hated that he was now privy to this knowledge and wanted to keep his son from knowing the same. So he deigned not to open his mouth, he knew that no matter how he tried he would only dig himself deeper in the grave.

Seemingly satisfied with this, she once again commanded Petunia to sit. Once her instructions were followed, she sighed, "I had hoped against hope that I would never have to do this," she spoke mostly to herself but she kept her wand trained on Mrs. Dursley, "To go against Albus's wishes…" The teacher turned her speech back to Lily's sister, "If something does not change immediately," she gave a pointed look at Harry's aunt, who returned a look of defiance, "Then I will be forced to remove him! Leaving everyone in this house at risk!"

Petunia had had enough. She stood back up and shouted at the witch that dared to order her around as though she were a petulant child in need of scolding. "Take him then! I've never wanted that freak here! I have never made that a secret! But you know? I've noticed something!" She raised a finger, as though she had made a discovery, "I've seen _your lot_ approach the boy on the street, but I've never seen a one here on Privet Drive! They don't know where he lives!" She jabbed her finger into the shoulder of Professor McGonagall, "So whatever protection,_" _she spat, "Having him here offers, you can take them and the boy and shove them up the arse of the old fool that thought for one second we'd take any of your freakish kind just to protect ourselves! I'd rather die!" With this, Petunia gasped for breath, looking quite pleased with herself. Then came the voice of her husband.

"Get out."

Petunia turned towards him, happy that he was finally giving her some support on this, only to find him looking at her. "V-Vernon?"

"I said out Petunia." Vernon's eyes held a mixture of emotions, anger and sadness being at the forefront, "You would kick the boy out onto the streets and endanger, not only us, but our son as well?" The man gave a great sigh, "You aren't the woman I married, Pet…"

"Vernon, I—"

But her husband stood, cutting her off, "We'll arrange visits with Dudley, but you cant be here Petunia, not now at least."

Tears brewing in her eyes, Mrs. Dursley turned back on Minerva, "Now look what you've caus—"

"It bloody well isn't her fault Petunia!" yelled Mr. Dursley, "It is yours. Not only did you wish death on a toddler, but you would also send away the only thing protecting our son! And for what? Fear? Anger?" Vernon was getting angry now, "Tell me Petunia! What are you so afraid of that you would leave your whole family, our son, unprotected?"

But Petunia offered no explanation; she could see no wrong in her actions.

Vernon looked down, "Just, just go."

And so, with tears in her eyes, and anger in her heart, Petunia Dursley departed from Number Four Privet Drive.

~o0O0o~

Professor McGonagall was shocked; this had been both the last thing she had expected, and the last thing she had intended. "Mr. Durs—"

"Leave," came the defeated voice of Vernon Dursley as he slumped back into his chair and buried his face in his hands, "Your letter had the date he needed to be at the train station, I'll have him there. So just… leave."

Minerva nodded, canceled her privacy charms and walked out of the house. While she felt bad for Vernon, she did not feel guilty. If she were asked she'd have said she'd done the man a favor. _'But,'_ she reminded herself, _'at some point he had loved that woman.'_ With that thought, she stepped outside and, after ensuring that no one was watching, apparated away.

~o0O0o~

Harry was unsure of what to make of the past two months. First his uncle had called he and his cousin to the living room where he gave them grave news. Aunt Petunia was moving away.

At hearing this news Dudley had promptly burst into tears, his first real ones in years come to think of it. "I.. I'm n-never gonna se-ee Mummy again?" he had sobbed, but his father had quickly explained that he would go stay with his mother twice a month.

When Harry had tried to inquire about his own visiting arrangements, Uncle Vernon had given him a look. Not a look filled with disdain or malice, no, Uncle Vernon's eyes betrayed just how sad he truly was. Harry was so caught up thinking about the emotional state of his uncle, that he'd nearly missed when his uncle gave him permission to both take Dudley's second bedroom _and to practice magic!_ Of course Vernon hadn't actually used the word. He'd actually told him to go work on his school material, but still!

Then came Harry's Birthday, and while he hadn't gotten any gifts, his uncle had bought him and Dudley a premade cake from the local grocer. All in all, Harry had to call this his best birthday ever, if only by default.

Now they were on their way to Kings Cross so Harry could get onto the train to Hogwarts. They were arriving somewhat early, on Harry's insistence, so that he could try to find Hermione.

As luck would have it, Harry spotted the familiar bushy hair of his friend nearly as soon as his sneakers made contact with the pavement. A large smile broke onto the boy's face and he called out to her. "Hermione!" but she seemed not to hear him. Bidding a quick goodbye to his uncle and cousin, Harry grabbed his trunk and Oberon's cage, put them on a trolley and ran off into the crowd to catch his friend.

He managed to catch site of her rounding a corner a little ways up. When he made it to the same corner, however, he ran face first into the front of a man with long blonde hair. The impact jostled his luggage and caused Oberon to screech in protest. Harry quickly calmed the owl and turned to apologize to the man, who it seemed had barely budged.

"I'm sorry sir I wasn't wat—"

"My word," the man had cut Harry off, "Would you be, Harry Potter?"

Looking up into the man's eyes, Harry instantly decided that he didn't like him. The man seemed to notice this as the cold smile that had been marring his, admittedly fair face, began to droop.

The man held out a gloved hand, "Lucius Malfoy," he introduced himself, "My son is in your year Mr. Potter." The cold smile returned to full force now, "Do try to befriend him, he oh so needs a _good influence_ like you."

Harry nodded slowly but inwardly decided that he wanted nothing to do with this man or his son, and the smile drooped again. Lucius Malfoy nodded curtly and walked quickly past Harry and disappeared into the crowd.

So, with a confused look on his face, Harry continued down the train station, looking both for his friend and his platform.

Platforms Five and Six. No sign of Hermione. He hadn't realized she could move so fast.

Platforms Seven and Eight. He thought for a moment that he had spied bushy brown hair around the next platform.

Platforms Nine and Ten. There she was. "Hermione!" called Harry, and his friend turned quickly around to see him, a smile plastered across her face.

"Harry!" she exclaimed, rushing to embrace her friend in a hug, "I knew we'd see each other here!"

Grinning, Harry began to explain how he'd had his uncle bring him early when he realized something. "Um, Hermione?" he began, "Where is our platform?" He had realized that, while he had seen platforms five, six, seven, eight, nine, and ten. His letter had read, _'Students will board the Hogwarts Express, which departs from __**Platform Nine and Three Quarters**__at eleven o'clock.'_ Harry had not seen any platforms other than whole numbers!

Hermione smiled at him again, "Professor McGonagall forgot to explain it to you," she started, "She explained it to me while we were at my house, but we were rushed out of your house so fast, she never got the chance." Hermione then pointed at the brick pillar between Platforms Nine and Ten, "It's right through there."

Harry looked at her for a moment, seeing if she found anything wrong with that statement. After a moment he decided to voice his opinion, "Hermione, that's a wall."

Huffing, Hermione grabbed her companion by the wrist and pulled him to the column, then, she shoved him. Harry had expected his back to come into contact with solid brick. One can imagine his surprise then, when this did not happen. Instead Harry continued falling, landing, back first, on the ground. What he saw, though it was upside down, amazed him.

Witches and wizards of all ages were chatting all around the station. Many older ones, Harry assumed these were the parents, were showing their children various spells and wand motions. Perhaps they were giving the children a taste of what they would be learning. There were so many people that it boggled Harry's mind. Then he saw it. A long, gorgeous, steam locomotive with the words _Hogwarts Express_ emblazoned on the side.

Harry may have already visited Diagon Alley, but it was at this moment that Harry truly felt magical.

~o0O0o~

_AN: The Petunia-yelling scene actually made me angry just typing it! She's just a horrible woman!_


End file.
